Return
by petite etoile22
Summary: Two spooks return, each missing something. One a heart, the other a mind. Do Not Own Spooks, it belongs to Kudos and the BBC. ON HIATUS.
1. Doctor' Orders

The Grid is quiet this time of night. Alone in his office, Harry recalls a time when it wouldn't seem so quiet. When he could always look out of his office in the reassurance that she would always be there. A mirage; is the first excuse he gives when he sees her standing there outside his house. She's dead. Well, that's what they told everyone, she's dead. The dead woman walks towards him and he only releases the breath he's been holding when she takes his hand.

"Ruth, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Malcolm called me back"

"You were in contact with him?"

"He keeps in contact with all of Section D's exiles"

"You've obviously heard about Mace then"

"It wasn't accidental"

"No" he sighs, wishing life were simpler.

"From the coded message Malcolm sent, I'm guessing it was an organisation called Yal-"

"Come inside. Now"

She question neither his methods nor his motives.

He makes her a cup of tea, which does nothing to allieviate her fears. Last time he made her tea, she was dead the next morning.

"What's going on?"

"Has Malcolm caught you up on events?"

"You mean Ros' death"

"Only she didn't die. We faked it"

"But the CIA... TTX2"

"She was turned by Yalta"

"How?"

"No one knows, we didn't have the time to find out. By the end she was some kind of triple agent, no one could tell what side she was on"

"She proved herself in the end. Malcolm told me she died going back for you"

"Yes, which is why I made sure Adam and Malcolm had made her legend water tight"

"But now you think Yalta's found her"

"Mace is all the evidence I need. Ros helped transport him to the safehouse we're detaining him in"

"And?"

"We're pretty sure he was killed with their trademark drug"

"Same symptoms, no trace. So what are we going to do Harry?"

"We're going to fix this, and then I'm going to take you on a well deserved break"

* * *

Connie stares at the images on her screen and a part of her wants to cry. No one deserved an end like that. Perhaps the Murdoch family, but no one decent deserves an end like that.

"She was loyal in the end, she was loyal in the bloody end!"

Harry knows what she is going to say as soon as she looks into his eyes.

"Connie says they have proof it was the Redbacks that got to Ros, accurate proof"

"Can we bring her in for questioning?"

"This proof implies she's dead"

"Implies. If she's not dead where the bloody hell is she?"

"I think someone might be able to help us with that"

"Who?" he asks, his voice painfully serious.

"Mace left me a little present. King Offa"

Harry finds himself standing outside the co-ordinates found in that familiar hiding place, and keyed into his sat nav. For once, Harry wishes he were more of a luddite. He can try an deny it as much as he can but the twisted sign mocks him with the truth. A very terrible truth:

'Edward Morrison Psychiatric Facilites for The Mentally Infirm'

Ros was lost.

* * *

The tiles are coated with years of grime, their dull colour complimenting the mould blossoming in the grout. Everything is a formica green, from the lino floors to the cemented ceilings. It makes the high class security cameras dotted about seem out of place. The orderly before him opens up a rusted heavy duty door and leads him into the next corridor. The increased number of cameras tells him that they've reached the high security ward. They walk in silence, the only sound is the soles of his shoes wrenching themselves from the grease of the floor. The screaming has stopped and when he asks why, the orderly merely taps the pouch by his side. In this place, a needle can do more damage than a bullet. Time stands still. There are no clocks in this part of the Hospital. These people (he has to remind the orderly that they are people) aren't getting out any time soon, so there's no 

point reminding them of that fact. Finally, they reach the end of the corridor and their final destination. The cell door opens with piercing screech and he is greeting with the sight of a woman restrained to her hospital bed, laughing hysterically.

"Hellooo! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Hello Rosalind"

"Told you, off with the bloody fairies!"

"And chained to her bed"

"It's for your own protection. Last month, she near killed a man with her bare thighs"

"May I ask why her thighs were bare?"

His answer is the door slamming shut behind him.

"Hello! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Same to you"

"Same to you"

Harry takes a deep breath. He should expect this. After all, this is the first time in months that she's had anyone talk to her without sticking a needle in her arm or worse.

"How are you feeling?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine"

"Fine"

"Would you like to get out of those cuffs?"

"Would she like?" she fumbles over these 'new' words.

"Yes, would you like"

"Can't" she whispers fearfully.

"I can take those off for you"

"Who are you?"

A tear escapes the confines of her eye and he wipes it away.

"I'm Harry Pearce"

"H-Harry? They told her you weren't real"

"Well I am, and we're leaving"

"Can't"

"We can. I'm taking you to a special safehouse"

"Can't. Bad things happen when they take her outside" she whimpers.

"But your friends are waiting for you"

"She has friends?"

"You have friends"

"And they'll help Ros?"

"I promise"

"She'll come with you... she'll come with you because you'll keep her safe"

* * *

They walk to the car in silence, Ros clinging to his arm. Although she's clinging, her grip is feather light and it's as if she's not there. Ros sings softly to herself as they speed through the green and peaceful hills of the English countryside.

"Harry, when Ros gets home can she have cake?"

"If you like"

"Yum, Ros hasn't had cake in a looong time"

"What happened to you Ros?"

"She can't. Can't say. Hurt her bad..."

"It's ok Ros, it's ok. Let's get you home"

"Yes, let's get Ros home"


	2. Home Sweet Home?

Harry stands outside her room and waits. It's over two hours before she emerges. From what he can see, she's turned off all the lights and taped the curtains to the wall. He doesn't ask why, she'll tell him when she's ready. Ros tries to smile but the result is more of an awkward grimace as muscles that haven't seen the light of day come into use. As strange as it looks, he appreciates the gesture. She foolows him into the kitchen; it's raining outside , and he notices that she daren't venture further into the room.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes please, if you don't mind"

"What would you like?"

"Ros can't say. She'll have what you'd like her to have"

The statement makes him uncomfortable.

"We'll have pasta then. It's quick and easy"

Ros sits in the doorway and watches his every move in utter rapture. Rapture that was only broken by the knock at the front door. Harry can't help but feel slightly guilty at the sight of her clinging to the doorframe. His guilt melts slightly when the door reveal Ruth with several bags of clothes and toiletries in her arms.

"Is she here?"

"Kitchen"

Ruth bustles through and stops in the corridor before the kitchen. Ros is up in the door way, knees crushing her chest. She looks up and Ruth can see the horror behind those sad green eyes of hers.

"Hello, fancy seeing you here"

"Hello Ros, how are you?"

"How are you?"

"Fine" she smiles.

"Fine"

"What are you making?"

"H-Harry's making pasta"

"Can I join you?"

"Harry will say yes, and Ros agrees"

"Thank you. Would you like to come shopping sometime tomorrow? I can't start work until Monday..."

"Wednesday," she counts childlishly on her fingers and smiles, "4 days off?"

" Yes. Harry's got work so I thought we could spend some time together" Ruth blushes as she thinks about how ridiculous and semi patronizing she sounds.

"Fine," Ros glances out at the window, "but not if it's raining"

"Not if it's raining"

* * *

They sit round the table in silence, Ros eating furiously with her fingers. It's on her 8th mouthful that she breaks down. She doesn't know where the tears come form; Ros thought she'd cried her last months ago.

"Ros, are you ok?" Ruth asks.

"She can't stop. She's trying, but she can't stop!"

"Ros, you need to calm down"

"She-She can't!"

"Harry, where are her notes?"

"In my study"

Ruth dashes off while Harry desperately tries to soothe a hysterical Ros. After what seems like an eternity, Ruth bursts in wide eyed.

"It's withdrawal from her meds!"

"We just have to ride this out then"

"We can't. They doped her up to the eyeballs. We can't make her go cold turkey after those amounts!"

"What do we do then?" his voice is strained, and the screaming is making their situation better.

"Phone Malcolm. He'll be able to get some sedatives. In the meantime, we get her to her room and try to calm her down"

* * *

It's the screams that scare them, those desperate screams. The meds make her forget, and whatever she's remembering now is too painful for words. Ros wants to tell them but she can't. It's too real right now; she feels instead of sees. And then there are the voices, so many voices. The men, the women, _her_. Because beneath all the shouting, there was always _her_. The voice who wouldn't let her forget, who kept reminding her, who stole her hope. She wanted to talk but she wouldn't; not to Ruth, not to Harry, and especially not to _her_. The tears stop as quickly as they come. This event does not comfort them in the slightest.

"Ros? Ros?"

Silence.

"Talk to us Ros"

"Shut. Up. Shut up shut up shut up!"

"Ros, you need to stop" Harry pleads.

" Can't. She'll make me tell if I stop!" she wails.

"Tell us what, Ros?"

"She'll make me tell! Won't tell! Can't tell!"

"Who will make you tell Ros?" Ruth asks in a soothing manner.

"Ros. She'll make me tell. Can't tell. Not allowed"

"Alright Ros, it's alright"

They lie with her all night. Regardless of the sedatives, she screams and suffers the terrors that have plagued her for months. They lie there and share the same unbearable thought: Ros was gone and they had no idea where to find her.

When the sun rises the next morning there's no new beginning, just loss and despair.

* * *

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	3. It's Raining, It's Pouring

_Ros comes round in the boot of a car, Bob Hogan's car to be precise. She wants to laugh at the irony; she fakes her own death to escape from the very people who are about to kill her. The boot opens to reveal an ordinary townhouse and Ros knows that on her list of 'a Really bad thing to happen to Ros Myers', death has definitely moved down a couple of places. A hood swoops over her head before her feet can even touch the ground, leaving her in total darkness. The next light she sees is that of the tiny bulb hanging in her concrete. Ros sits in the silence and waits. There's no clock; but form the signals her body is giving her, she's been here between 12 and 36 hours. The door opens with a quiet click and a thin, willowy man with glasses enters. Experience has taught Ros that the weakest looking men are often the most dangerous. They have something to prove._

_"Ca va mon ange"_

_"Casse-toi"_

_Her eloquent response is rewarded with a backhand across her face._

_"Tu veux mourir, non?"_

_"Si je suis honnête...rien à foutre"_

_A laugh, quickly followed by a broken nose._

_"You think you are so clever. That this bravado is an adequate mask for your fear. If you wanted to be dead, you only had to ask"_

_He grabs her face, forcing him to look into his eyes._

_"Do you feel it yet? My touch on your skin making you feel dead inside?" he leans in close to her ear and hisses, "By the time I've finish with you ma Cherie, you'll be wishing you were with your little friend Zaf"_

_He was right._

* * *

Malcolm enters her room and it takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He's been told what to expect, he's seen the pictures, yet for some reason shock still overwhelms him. She's alive. After everything she's been through, she's still breathing. They have to be grateful for that at least.

"Hello, fancy seeing you here"

"Hello...I brought her sedatives"

"...Thank you..."

"Would she like some now?"

"... No... Thank you..."

"Want to go for a walk?"

"Ruth's going shopping with Ros"

"I sure she won't mind one little walk"

Ros peers through the curtains and gasps.

"It's raining"

"We can go for a drive then"

"Can you give Ros a sedative?"

"But she doesn't like needles"

"She'll be brave then"

Ros winces slightly as the needle slides in, but shows no other indication of her distress. It reminds Malcolm of a time before all this pain. A time where the grey areas weren't so grey. A time where Malcolm didn't have to grieve for the loss of four of his friends. He grieves for only three now. Ros holds him so tight that she carves crescent moons into his flesh. It's only when they get into the car that she breathes again.

"Where shall we go?"

"East Anglia"

* * *

He doesn't question her intentions; he just drives, letting instinct tell him where to stop the car. They sit there, neither one of them speaking. They don't need to and if they're honest with each other, they never have to. It's strange that the man who had the most reasons to hate her, was the first to offer her the hand of friendship. Jocelyn Myers had hurt them both and they had bonded in that pain. That's why he doesn't ask how she is; he doesn't need to, he just knows.

"Ros made a lot of mistakes didn't she?"

"A few. But when it mattered, really mattered, she did the right thing"

"She should've done the right thing from the start... She had choices and she made the wrong ones, right from the beginning"

"She made the right ones at the end"

"And it cost Ros her freedom"

"At least it didn't cost Ros her friendship"

"They showed her his body you know. She only believed he was dead because he wasn't smiling. Zaf always smiled"

"Yes he did"

"She heard him through the walls when they took him away. No shouting, just quiet stoicism. It made her want to live again; it made her want to fight"

"Then he did well because she's still here"

"You really think so?"

He rests his hand a fraction of an inch next to hers. He understands that she doesn't like to be touched. He understands that she hurts.

"She really wants to talk to you"

"I know, and she will in time"

"Stopped raining" she smiles.

"So it has. Would you like to back?"

"No. She can't think with all the noise. It's quiet here, with you"

Malcolm realises then why Ros spent most of her time in the forgery suite with him. She could think with him, he made her feel safe.

"Does the noise make her feel scared?"

"Yes" she murmurs in shame.

"How long?"

"Since she was 16"

Malcolm would make a light comment if the situation weren't so dire. Bu tit shows that Ros is still there; good old, precise Ros. The only woman who never flinched at amoral decisions, who vowed infamously never to apologise.

"Is she still scared?"

"Only with the noise. But you know that"

"We should get back. Harry and Ruth will be worried"

"She wants to stay here with you. Ros thinks they need some time alone"

"How much time alone?" he asks with a wry smile. It reminds him of their endeavours when Ros and Zaf were running a book.

"You could drive to the coast. She'd like to spend some time at the seaside"

"I'll phone Harry. But this is- I mean" he bumbles, "we don't have any bags"

"Ros does" she smiles, holding up a purse full of money.

"Her shopping allowance!" he exclaims.

"People shop at the seaside Malcolm!" she giggles. The sound makes his heart swell.

"To the seaside!" he joins in with her laughter as he starts the car.

* * *

Ruth is pleased by the sound of Malcolm's voice on the other end of the phone. Despite his lack of confidence, he's the best person for the job and it shows. He cares deeply for Ros, and that's all she needs and wants right now.

"How is she?" Harry asks with great concern. The memories of last night have not left him.

"She's at the seaside, and you should be at your meeting with the JIC"

"I'll see you tonight for dinner. I was thinking that Italian place on the Southbank"

"Sounds perfect" she replaces the handset with a warm glow in her being.

She knows they have many issues to resolve like Yalta and the Redbacks. But right now there are more important things like seaside rock and romance. Somehow, they've found themselves in a rare and fortunate position. And for that reason, Ruth thinks the world can wait for them.


	4. Oh We Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside

They pull into the hotel car park and Malcolm can't believe the look of sheer excitement on Ros's face. They check in, a feat which causes great embarrassment when he discovers it to be a double bed instead of two singles. Ros doesn't seem to notice this fact though; she's more concerned about getting to the beach. She drags him along by the arm until they reach the shore. Ros hastily rolls up her scrub bottoms (she refuses to remove them, despite their best efforts) and peels off her socks and shoes before running into the sea. Malcolm's attempts to join her result in a series of yelps.

"It's bloody f-freezing!" he splutters.

"You can feel it?!"

"Of course I can..." he voice trails off as realisation dawns on him, "She can't feel it can she?"

"Nope"

"They never said"

"No hands, no feet" she sing songs nonchalantly.

The mention of the word causes him to look down and see that her feet are a vivid blue.

"Hungry?"

"Mmm"

"Let's get out of the cold and get some fish and chips. I suppose Ros hasn't had them in a long time"

"Ros likes the sound of that"

* * *

The piping hot chips make their fingertip swell in the bitter cold wind that blows under their tiny piece of shelter. The bitter salt and acrid vinegar almost cause her to cry; she hasn't felt these sensations in so long and she's not about to pass them by. She devours her portion in seconds and from the corner of his eye, Malcolm can see her eyeing up his.

"Rosalind?"

"Ugh?" she responds, mouth full of chips and ketchup on her cheek.

"It doesn't matter" he laughs softly.

"Ros wants to go to the arcade if you don't mind please?"

"Arcade it is"

"Are you sure?"

"This is Ros's day out and we shall do whatever she likes"

"Thank you" she whispers with unshed tears of joy. The arcade is eventful to say the least. Malcolm was surprised to see Ros practically sprint towards the dance machines.

"Come on!"

"R-Ros, I'm not s-sure this is a good idea"

"Please? Pretty please? Just one game?"

She reminds him of his goddaughter when she was little. Then he realises that despite what Ros thinks, she not being immature, she's being innocent. It's for that reason that he decides to drop his inhibitions and join her. In the end, they play four games and forget the fact that her father killed his friend and she's a torture victim. They're on a massive high, which will only make the come down worse. A come down that comes in the form of a classic arcade shoot-em-up. Her blood runs cold and she finds herself frozen to the spot.

"Ros remembers"

"Shall we go back to the hotel?"

"No. Will you help? She wants to play"

"Is she sure?"

"It's just a game. If it were real life, you would lose and die. Or worse" she whispers, her voice painfully thin.

"That is a sad truth Miss Myers"

They take up arms and Ros steadily eliminates her opponents. It's instinct more that awareness that brings this outcome. Malcolm knows she's not playing a game; she's playing a history she desperately wants to change. **NO CREDIT** flashes across the screen and Malcolm has to take the plastic weapon from her hands, she's shaking so much.

* * *

The pavilion is the next stop in their quest for a late supper. Asides from fish and chips, Ros proves to be a very fussy eater. Eventually, they find a restaurant that is willing to server her plain pasta with boiled chicken. Malcolm spots that although she eats with her fingers, her eyes never leave the fork at her side.

"Is there?"

"They broke her fingers, and then she was not allowed a fork. Too dangerous"

"She can now"

He gently places the fork in her hand and waits. She slowly resumes her eating, not due to a lack of confidence but rather due to the novelty of being able to something so trivial again.

"See? It doesn't bite"

"No, it doesn't bite"

They have ice-cream for dessert. Ros eats hers really slowly but Malcolm doesn't mind; he enjoys her company. His soul weighs a little less at the sound of her laughter.

"Her lips have gone all tingly" she conspires, her unfeeling digits tracing patterns on them.

It's only when they're strolling back to the hotel that Malcolm remembers their earlier predicament. In the lift, there is an uncomfortable silence that only Malcolm seems to be aware of. Ros slips into the room and proceeds to get changed rapidly, pausing only when she's pulled back the covers to the bed.

"Cold. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. N-Nothing at all"

Ros lies there half-asleep, only waking when she feels his presence beside her in the bed. Malcolm's shocked when he feels her pull his arm across her torso and hold it tight. He shifts closer, their bodies clicking together in a comfortable embrace.

"Malcolm?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you"

"For what?"

"For understanding me"

"Are you alright?"

"No" she replies honestly.

"It'll get better"

"Promise?"

"Promise"

He feels her relax against him as sleep begins to take its hold. Malcolm knows she probably won't sleep more than an hour but that doesn't matter because when she does wake; she'll be safe beside him because he made a promise. Malcolm Wynn-Jones doesn't usually break those.


End file.
